I am a lazy seer. I expect the subject of my gaze to do all the work. Dazzle me, scenery. Be beautiful, damn it! When the subject—be it the Alps or a Monet—inevitably falls short of my unreasonable expectations, I assign blame to it, not me. Thoreau thought otherwise. The person attuned to beauty will find it in a garbage dump while “the fault-finder will find fault even in paradise.”
